


An Open Door

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-24
Updated: 2006-06-24
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Hermione has decided that it wasn’t a good idea to let Charlie in through her bedroom door…





	An Open Door

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

She rose as she heard the knock on the door, somehow knowing who it was before she answered. It couldn't very well be anyone else at this hour. He was the only one who ever came at this time of night. Sighing, she wondered who he had broken up with this time. 

It was always like this. He’d meet some girl, far too silly and superficial for him, dated her for a few weeks, got dumped and ended up on her doorstep, his heart in his hand and a wish for comfort. A type of comfort she knew she shouldn't provide, but that she couldn't help to give anyway. 

"Hermione," he said with a faint smile. "I've lost my heart."  

Hermione sighed again. This was getting too much, too often, too heartbreaking. She couldn't continue to heal his broken heart by breaking her own.  "Come in," she interrupted him before he could go on, stepping away from the door to enter her flat. "Close the door behind you," she added flatly as she turned her back to him and started walking towards the living room.

Once more she found herself wondering which girl earned his heart this time - Mindy, Sandy, maybe a Crissy - why did girls like that always seem to have idiotic two syllable names? _Probably because they can't remember them otherwise_ , a voice in her head said, making her wish even harder that Charlie wouldn't care for that type of women. Why he did, was beyond her.  

Coming into the room, Charlie passed her and sat down on the sofa. He beckoned her to sit down next to him. How many times had she not done this? How many times had she not sat on that sofa and listen to him whine about the latest in the line of women that dated and dismissed Charlie Weasley? How many times had her listening not turned into comfort? Comfort in the sofa, on the floor, on the coffee table until it broke and had to be fixed by magic? Or most often – comfort that ended up in the bedroom, limbs tangled so tightly they couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Moans and gasps turning into panting before they fell asleep in each other’s arms, too often giving the illusion of something more. Something lasting. Something her heart ached for enough to go through all the mornings after. The mornings where he would smile and tell her what a wonderful _friend_ she was, how he wouldn’t survive nights like this without her support.  

Well this would be a night where he would have to.  

She couldn’t do this anymore. She wouldn’t do this anymore. It tore her heart right out of her chest and she couldn’t stand the pain of only having the illusion of him. Not when what she wanted was the real him.  

“Hermione,” he started, reaching out for her. She didn’t move. “What’s wrong?” he said frowning. “Why won’t you sit down and talk to me?” 

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said fighting to keep her voice calm, fighting not to give in to the part of her that wanted nothing more than to feel him close again. “If you want to stay here, fine – I’ll make the sofa up for you. But I will not let you into my bed tonight, Charlie. I will not be the girl you only come to when you cannot find someone else anymore–” 

“Hermione, I don’t–” 

“Yes you do, Charlie!” she said, louder this time. “You do it every time you’ve broken up with someone, and I won’t let you anymore. I’ll be your friend, but you’ll have to find someone else to shag from now on.” 

“Please, tell me you know I think more of you than just some cheap shag?” 

“Maybe _I_ don’t anymore,” she answered quietly, for the first time voicing thoughts that had infected her mind for months. “Maybe I’m tired of feeling no respect for myself.”  

“Hermione, please–” 

She didn’t listen. She didn’t give him the chance to finish what he started to say. Instead she just turned and left the room, hurrying into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She could hear him following her, she knew he was behind the door. Exhausted she leaned her back to the door and sank to the floor, burying her head in her hands, wishing this wasn’t so damn hard.  

She was surprised when she felt the edge of a parchment brush against her side. Looking down on the floor, she picked it up, watching it without daring to unfold it. She knew Charlie was on the other side, waiting. What she couldn’t figure out was why.  

“I’ve lost my heart; will you take these words instead?” she heard him say behind the door. 

Closing her eyes, she slowly unfolded the parchment.  ' _I’ve been an idiot, not seeing what was right there. It may not mean much, but I love you.'_  

Hermione stared at the note, not believing what she read. Then she felt the anger rise within her. _How could he do this to her? How could he play with her heart like this?_ Furious she stood up, jerking the door open to face him.  

“I, me–” 

“ _How dare you!_ ” she yelled. “ _How dare you play with my feelings like this? Are you that bloody desperate for a shag? No wonder that your girls keep leaving you!_ ”   

“Hermione, what are you–” 

 

“ _I thought you were my friend! I thought you were above tricks like this. I thought we were above things_ –” 

 

“ _Hermione, stop!_ ” Charlie finally shouted back, grabbing her by the arms. “I meant every word on that parchment! I may not be the smartest man alive, and I more than understand if you don’t want to be with someone like me, but don’t accuse me of lying when I’m being honest for the first time in months!” 

 

“Months?” Hermione looked at him, searching for the evidence that must be there, the proof that it was all a cruel joke, that he was just toying with her.  

 

“Do you want to know _why_ Brenda broke up with me?” he asked, still holding her arms, not waiting for her reply before he continued. “She left because I whispered _your_ name in my sleep.” 

 

Hermione stared at him, not daring to believe that this was actually happening. 

 

“She was quite upset, demanding to know who you were and when I met you. Then she left. That was a week ago.”  

 

“A week? But you–” Hermione started, not finishing the sentence. “Why wait so long?” 

 

“Because I needed to think. I needed to know why this kept happening, why I kept running to you, why I kept getting myself into these doomed relationships in the first place.” 

 

“And what did you find out?” Hermione said almost breathlessly, not daring to allow her heart to start beating just yet.  

 

“That I’ve been a fool. That I’ve looked for girls that would leave me fast so that I could have an excuse to come and see you,” he said, seriously. “Look, I know I’m not the kind of guy someone like you would get involved with, but I needed to tell you this all the same. That’s why I came here, tonight. _Not_ because I wanted a shag.”  

 

Staring at him, Hermione couldn’t believe that she was hearing right. She’d wanted this for so long, that now when it was finally happening, she didn’t quite know what to do. And so she did nothing, waiting for him to do something instead. He did. He shyed away – nodding as he let her go and started to turn away from her.  

 

“I’d better go,” he said hoarsely.  

 

Suddenly she realised that this would be it. This would be her only chance, and if she didn’t do anything, he wouldn’t. Knowing that her voice wouldn’t carry her this time, she reached out, grabbed him by the fabric in his shirt and pulled him down to her face, pressing her lips to his. He wasn’t slow to return the kiss, his tongue slipping in between her lips as his arms slipped around her waist pulling her closer. As he lifted her up and started to carry her inside the bedroom, she couldn’t help but to smile. Maybe sometimes it was a good idea to open the door even when you thought you shouldn’t. 


End file.
